


fell down by the wayside

by palateens



Series: Grand Larsony [11]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Developing Friendships, Making Up, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Therapy, background Jack Zimmermann/Justin "Ransom" Oluransi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 23:40:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14068107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palateens/pseuds/palateens
Summary: Lardo shrugs. “Metamours gotta stick together. That’s what we’re here for right?”





	fell down by the wayside

January 2022

Lardo’s found her new normal. She has a schedule for everything from organizing how fast work will get done to when she’ll go use the restroom. Some days she just wants to burrow deeper into bed, which is when she sticks her nose into the closest person’s back. Normally, that’s Holster, who’ll get her excited and bribe her with shower sex.

But sometimes it’s Perry, who squeezes her tight for another minute or two before asking her if she can just get dressed. The answer is normally yes. But on the days it isn’t, or on the days Perry can’t get up either, it becomes a group effort. Going through the motions and holding each other accountable.

Sometimes it’s Goose, who knows how make her smile with just the right words. It’s the “I believe in you” that always gets her, although the kisses that come with it don’t hurt. When it’s Ransom, it’s usually a quick check of her schedule to see if she can afford to sleep in (she normally can, but then he mentions breakfast and trashy TV, which is enough to pique her interest).

Sometimes it’s Ozzy while he’s on a break or roadie, saying “the faster you get done, the sooner we can hang out.” Sometimes it’s Kent physically rolling her out of bed before making it up to her with tea and pan dulces. Sometimes it’s even Bitty offering to drive her to work so she can sleep.

No matter what, when it’s too hard to wake up, there’s always someone there for her. It isn’t perfect, but it’s a lot fucking better than trudging through every fucking day of her life alone. Maybe living with a ton of queer people, working 40 hours a week sweeping floors and drawing, and not giving two shits about much else isn’t normal. But for Lardo it’s pretty damn awesome.

That’s what matters.

On the other hand, Lardo's still getting used to a lot of change. Therapy isn't the easiest thing in the world. That's an understatement; some days she has to force herself to talk to get anything done. She isn't vulnerable around people who haven't earned it yet. She keeps reminding herself that her therapist, Jesse, is trustworthy. That's what she's paying them for, to listen unbiasedly to her clusterfuck of a mind.

Trusting people doesn’t come easy, and it doesn’t come soon enough.

“Maybe we need to take a step back and examine your self-perception,” Jesse says one day during their session.

“Sure, because I’m a total narcissist.”

“Lardo, deflection,” they say gently.

“Ok, taking this seriously,” she says with a deep breath. “So what do you want me to tell you?”

“Why don’t you tell me five things you like about yourself.”

She stares at them for a while, mainly focusing on their shirt collar. Lardo feels shaky and slightly nauseous. She grips her water bottle tightly before taking a long sip from it.

“My hands,” she finally says.

“What about them?”

“They’re my best tool,” Lardo says. “They’re how I make art. They’re just... beautiful.”

“Ok, what else?”

“I fucking love my imagination,” she adds. “I couldn’t create sick tattoos without it.”

Jesse hums. “Lardo, what are some things you like about yourself that don’t have to do with creating?”

Lardo stutters for a minute before ultimately shrugging.

“You know some people feel like their worth is tied to what they can produce,” Jesse says. “So when they’re productive they think they’re happy because they’re able to feel useful to someone else or for some greater purpose. But what’s more important, what comes harder to most, is a sense of self-satisfaction and validation that comes just from being yourself.”

Jesse looks at their clock. “Ok well we’re just about to wrap up for today. Before you come back next week, I want you to come up with five things you like about yourself that have nothing to do with how productive you are or can be.”

She’s already dreading the idea of it, but she gives a quiet “ok.” Jesse’s a decent therapist. They’ve helped her out a lot. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t make Lardo’s skin crawl to have to talk about herself so much. It means she’s got a very steep hill to climb.

Kent’s waiting for her in front of his car when she gets out. She must look like shit from how tightly he’s hugging her. It’s hard, being vulnerable around new people. But she’ll get used to them in time.

_/.\\_

Jesse, however, isn’t the only person she's having a hard time around.

“So Falcs are gonna be here on Friday,” Kent brings up on their way home.

Lardo focuses on the scenery outside. Not that there’s much to look at, but it’s better than admitting she’s very aware of Jack’s impending arrival.

“Jack’s gonna get scratched from the Arizona game and spend his bye week here,” he adds.

She tries to keep a neutral face. “Without Shits?”

“Shits is coming for the second weekend,” he says. “Y’know, lawyering and shit is a lot.”

“Makes sense.” She takes a deep breath.

“Are you gonna be ok? Having them around?”

“Shitty and I are fine—”

Kent groans. “Jesus, fuck, Larissa are you gonna make me say it?”

“Well if you’re gonna be a bitch about it, yea,” she says with frown.

“Should I tell him not to bother coming?”

“I can be civil,” she grumbles.

“I’m not asking if you’re gonna behave like a fucking child,” he snaps as he parks the car between their houses. “I’m asking about you, if having him around is gonna fuck you up.”

“Why the fuck do you care?”

“Because you’re my best friend, and I love you!”  

“What do you want me to fucking say? That I’m gonna bend over backwards for the guy who broke my heart, broke my boyfriends’ hearts, and keeps breaking your heart?”

Kent opens his mouth, probably to scream, but Lardo stops him by shoving her tongue down his throat. He proves to be a very good kisser, and next thing she knows, he’s in her lap and she’s gripping his ass for leverage as his lips trail down her neck. Lardo keens as he sucks on her lightly.

He looks up finally, eyes blown wide. “You’re not getting out of this that easily.”

She groans. “Kent, just let me blow you and we’ll forget this.”

He laughs as he opens the car door, climbing out.

“Tell you what, we can take turns _after_ we finish talking.”

“When did you become a stable adult,” she grumbles as she gets out of the car.

“Uh never,” he says. “I’m just slightly less of a trash fire right now.”

“Awesome,” she says.

“Don’t sweat it, after a while you’ll be way better than me,” Kent says as he pulls her toward her house. “Just wait and see.”

_/.\\_

Lardo successfully convinces Kent and Ransom (and Holster, Perry, Ozzy… basically everyone) that it isn’t a bad idea to have Jack over for the week. She does not, however, promise to interact with him. She abuses the fact that there are too many of them living in both houses for anyone to keep track of where she is at all times. Mainly, she hides out in the basement of her place, watching olds movies while she doodles.

This plan works for all of two days, three, technically, counting Friday, since everyone’s too tired to interact anyway. But Monday she has off work, and everyone else is at practice. It comes as a small surprise when Jack comes in from a run halfway through her bowl of cereal and an episode of Ink Master.

“Hey,” he says as he passes her on his way to the guest room.

She waves passively. For a moment, she pretends that they’re still in college, still something worth being.

Jack comes back a few minutes later. Lardo hopes that he’ll be decent and ignore her for the most part. Instead, he sits down next to her with his own bowl of cereal.

“Don’t you have a million dollar meal plan to uphold,” she chirps quietly.

He huffs in the way she remembers is supposed to be a laugh. They don’t talk for a while, just staring at the television and chewing silently.

“That’s disgusting,” he says at some point watching one artist’s design.

“It’s New School day,” Lardo says. “Everyone thinks it’s a joke style because it looks cartoony and has more fluid rules. But it’s seriously hard as fuck to nail down.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Jack wrinkle his nose the way Bitty does when he’s trying to get something that he thinks is dumb. She barely suppresses a smirk.

“In one of the older seasons, this one guy gave this lady a pregnant dinosaur riding a wave,” she adds.

“On purpose,” Jack says dumbfoundedly.

“He thought it looked cool,” she says with a shrug.

They fall back into silence. Jack makes some grumbles and protests when they get to the judges’ critiques.

“Why are they so picky?” he asks.

“Uh, because it’s an art form on a human being that’s really fucking hard to fix or get rid of?”

“That one looks fine.”

“You’re joking,” she says incredulously.

He raises a brow as if that’s supposed to argue enough.

“Jack, no,” Lardo says. “That’s a fucking ugly tattoo.”

“One line is crooked,” he argues.

“Try all the lines,” she says. “We’re going back, and I’m pausing.”

The second she has the tattoo paused on screen, she jumps up and stomps to the TV. She points out every flaw in detail, giving him comparisons to the other competitors. Once she feels that her point’s been made, she takes a deep breath and sits back down. Jack presses play for them.

“You still think it looks fine?” she asks tiredly.  

He shrugs with his lips pursed. Lardo shoves him lightly. He’s just trying to get a rise out of her. It sort of works. She can at least stand to watch another episode with him. They have a quiet sort of stasis that suits them well.

Some things don’t change, no matter how much she wishes they would.

_/.\\_

Dinner the next night is so full that people spill over into the living room.

“You know there’s a reason we have two houses,” Lardo chirps as she sits at the coffee table next to Holster.

“Psh, enough room for everyone to sit in chairs, what is that,” Holster says.

“A reasonable request considering how often we do this,” Ransom argues as he sits down next to her.

Jack walks into the living room, looking awkwardly at the space in between Ransom and Lardo. She sees this and takes pity on him, gesturing him over with her head. He sits down, smiling softly as he kisses Ransom on the lips.

“So, bro,” Holster says. “What are your intentions with our Justin?”

“Adam,” Ransom hisses.

“What?” he says with a full mouth. “I never got to do the shovel talk.”

Ransom shakes his head but doesn’t comment further. Jack takes another bite of his pozole, shrugging.

“I love him,” Jack says. “Can’t we just, take it slow?”

Holster shrugs. “Good enough for me. Keep up the good work, and don’t fuck it up, bro.”

Lardo stuffs more food into her mouth. She feels Holster nudge her shoulder.

“What babe?” she asks.

“You never got a shovel talk either,” he says.

She shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. I trust Justin to make choices for himself.”

Holster licks her face, and she yelps in surprise. She sneers at him before glaring at Jack.

“You know... don’t fuck up,” she struggles to say.

“Or…” Holster prompts.

She turns and gives him the dirtiest look she can muster.

“Or nothing,” she says. “Jack won’t fuck up, because if he does, he’ll actually apologize and own up to shit this time.”

She takes another spoonful of pozole. Lardo feels three sets of eyes on her, but she says nothing. It’s not a big deal.

At least, not until later when she’s grabbing water and finds Kent asleep in Jack’s arms on the couch. She tiredly salutes him as he watches a program with the sound off and French subtitles on. Before she goes upstairs, she looks back at the living room, seeing Jack with this face of hesitancy.

Lardo takes a big swig of her water before padding back toward him. She sits down on the carpet next to his head.

“What,” she asks quietly.

“Thanks, for earlier,” Jack says.

“What? With Holtzy demanding a shovel talk? It’s no big deal.”

“No, uh, for saying you don’t think I’ll fuck up.”

She sighs, shoulders sagging as she brings her knees up to her chest. “You know I’ve got a fucking low opinion of you.”

“Yea,” he admits quietly.

“Doesn’t mean I have room to talk about being a good partner,” she says, taking another sip of water. “You were there for him when I couldn’t. I respect that.”

Jack shrugs like it’s no big deal. Lardo shakes her head. It’s a big deal. A very big deal. They both know it.

“For what it’s worth,” he says slowly. “You’ve been around for Kent a lot more than I have.”

They both look at Kent who’s snoring soundly, for once, on his chest.

“So thank you,” Jack says.

Lardo shrugs. “Metamours gotta stick together. That’s what we’re here for right?”

Jack nods. She can tell he wants to argue, but they’re both tired, and he’s legitimately trying to watch whatever film he’s boring himself with. So she pats his shoulder lightly before going back upstairs.

When she gets back, she climbs into the middle of bed where Ransom is. She clutches him tightly and reminds herself she isn’t a bad person for being checked out. That’s the good part of polyamory, the best part. She knows that even when she can’t be there for them, her boys are never alone.

_/.\\_

She’s woken up the next morning by the smell of pancakes—good pancakes. Lardo stumbles down the stairs with her eyes half closed, transfixed by the smell of a decent breakfast. She finds most of the guys are up and dressed for practice. Jack is at the stove making a stack of pancakes.

“You rude fucks,” she murmurs. “Did any of you offer to help?”

There are some grumbles and half-hearted yeses. She takes it as a resounding “no.” She tiredly grabs another plate before tapping Jack’s shoulder.

“You want me to plate them or make this an all you can eat thing?” she asks.

“Uh.” He blushes as if he’s just realized that he’s feeding several NHL players, and Bitty.

Lardo nods. “Let’s start with two. Johnny, you first.”

More grumbles ensue, but Johnny grabs enough plates for everyone else and leans over to kiss Lardo on the temple.

“Once a manager, always a manager,” Johnny chirps.

“Shut up,” she says with a blush.

“I’ll start passing these out,” Johnny says.

“And that’s why he goes first!” she shouts at Holster who shouts back “kiss ass.”

“You want to marry him,” Jack chirps.

Lardo shrugs. “I’ll marry whoever. But yea, he grows on you... like a fungus.”

Jack chuckles, shaking his head.

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Commitment,” she chirps. “You’d marry marriage if you could.”

There’s a chorus of “oh”s from the table.

“That was one time,” he says with a smirk as he flips a pancake.

“Oh that’s bullshit, sweetpea,” Bitty says. “You love making plans.”

“Can confirm,” Kent adds.  

Lardo hip checks him lightly. It’s the playful way she used to back when they were in love. It’s the kind that says “you’re ok, we care about you.”

When he starts chirping Kent for being baby crazy, she knows they’re going to be alright.

_/.\\_

She’s staring at a blank page on her notebook, frowning. She’s tried the entire morning to come up with something to say before her appointment. But... nothing.

“You’re trying too hard,” Jack says as he settles down next to her.

“You don’t know what this is,” she retorts.

“It’s paper. They have it in Canada too,” he says. “For when we run out of maple leaves and hockey pucks to write on.”

She laughs. “You think you’re so cute.”

“My hundred thousand instagram followers say I’m very attractive,” he says.

“You’re impossible.”

He bumps his shoulder against hers. She knows he’s trying to coax her into talking. She leans her head on his shoulder because she doesn’t want to deal with this stupid assignment. Despite the time and distance between them, they still remember how they used to work. How they used to tangle around each other on hot afternoons when everything was too loud and people’s faces were too quiet, too terrifying to learn how to read.

They had gestures, touches, and kisses. Even when before it was romantic, they built a world for themselves out of physical contact and mutual trust. She trusted Jack once, because he saw the real her and never asked for more. Not someone productive, or pretty, or thin—just her.   

“My therapist wants to know five things I like about I like about myself,” she says. “...that don’t have to do with art.”

Jack nods. They sit there for a while, hands tangling together at some point.

She frowns when she sees how ratty his nail polish looks. She makes a displeased sound as she gets up. A minute later she emerges from the hallway closet with Perry’s box of nail products. She sits down and starts cleaning them off.

“What color?” she asks.

“Red,” he says.

She grabs a bottle that reminds her of the Samwell red. She hums as she paints. It’s mostly alt-rock songs they used to listen to in college, but she isn’t paying too much attention.

“You’re loyal,” Jack says at some point. “You don’t give up on people.”

She looks up, confused. But then she sees the notebook still sitting next to him and realizes what he’s saying.

“Is that two things or one?” Lardo asks.

He shrugs, instead saying, “You’re stubborn.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“You brought us back together,” he says. “Kenny, Shitty, Ransom... I have them because of you.”

She clears her throat. “Right. I don’t give up on people, huh?”

“You’re a good friend,” Jack elaborates.

“What makes a good friend?”

“You.”

“That’s corny,” she says.

“Larissa,” he says in his captain voice.

“Jack,” she mimics, albeit poorly.

“You believe in people,” he rephrases.

Lardo fights back the urge to argue. “Cool, can you tell me how to believe in myself?”

“Treat yourself like everyone else.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“I know,” he says, clearing his throat.

She notices a scar on his lower forearm. She sighs, closing her eyes, remembering the days when she put so much into making him love himself. Because how could someone love four other people so willingly, yet not love theirself?

“It doesn’t get easier, does it?”

“Eventually, yes,” he says.

A small smile tugs at her lips. She finishes his second hand, closing it gently before kissing his arm. Just like she used to every week so he wouldn't anxiously bite his nails.

“I miss my best friend,” he says

“Yea? What are they like?”

“Loving, funny...kind,” he says.

“They sound pretty great,” Lardo says.

“She is.”

“What happened?”

“I fucked up,” Jack says. “I apologized, but I never thanked her. For everything.”

She hums. “I’m sure if you tried talking to her, it’d get easier.”

“When?”

Lardo shrugs. “Eventually.”

Without warning, he hugs her tightly. She clutches back. She doesn’t... remember what it feels like for life to be easy. Maybe it never was. Jack nuzzles her head, and she remembers being twenty and feeling loved. Something feels stuck in her throat. She sits in his lap out of habit, letting him turn on Ink Master.

She missed her best friend too.

 

**Author's Note:**

> fic title - lyrics from Landslide by Oh Wonder
> 
> Check out what else is going on for Lardo Week in our [AO3 Collection](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/lardo_week_2018) and [on Tumblr!](https://lardo-week.tumblr.com/)


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